Foment
by foggynite
Summary: "Roller Coaster" based. Because Stick left with Justin at the end, and wasn't that just perfect?


Title: Foment Author: foggynite Fandom: Roller Coaster Spoilers: Basically the entire movie. Pairing: Justin+Stick Rating: PG? maybe PG-13 Summary: [roller coaster n. 1. A steep, sharply curving elevated railway with small open passenger cars that is operated at high speeds as a ride, especially in an amusement park. 2. An action, event, or experience marked by abrupt, extreme changes in circumstance, quality, or behavior.] Justin and Stick and possibilities. Archive: yes to list archive, Email: foggynite@hotmail.com Series/Sequel: Perhaps. Most likely. I suck. Web Page: Disclaimer: Belongs to Panorama Entertainment and a whole slew of other people. If it was mine, there would have been more than them just leaving together at the end. But hey. That's why I write fanfiction. Warnings: Um. Underage? Nothing graphic at all, just a crush that may or may not be returned and some inner musings, but nothing dirty. Justin's, like, 15/16? and Stick is like 16/17. yeah.  
  
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Headlights flash through the dirty windshield. Just blurs. Streaks of color interrupted only by the squeaking wiper blades.  
  
The truck cabin smells like mildew, the heavy wet scent of warm bodies and damp clothes. His left side is hot, almost uncomfortably so, but the cool glass against his forehead is a biting pain. He's drifting in between waking and sleep, lulled by the rhythmic thumps of the eighteen-wheeler and the Christian station on the radio.  
  
The driver's name is Sam. Plain, easy. A name from Good People. He can tell Sam is Good People because they've met quite a few Not So Good and even some Bad People on their journey, and Sam isn't leering or asking nosy questions. Just. . . Talking. Like they're rational adults he didn't pick up on the side of the road. And Stick is surprisingly coherent as he talks back, like this is normal.  
  
Normal to the point that Justin is beginning to think it is. Easy to lose himself in the present, the murmur of Stick's voice traveling through his arm, his thigh, where he's pressed against the other boy. His hands are sticky with humidity and a few days of not showering, but he doesn't mind right now. There are stars on the other side of the window, bright spots of light, and he tries not to think of colored flashing lights, merry-go- rounds and roller coasters.  
  
Because Darrin is dead. He made that choice by himself and Justin saw it coming, and there was nothing anyone could have done. He had been staring into his brother's lifeless eyes for years and no one else had realized it. He cried that day because of the shock, of knowing what was coming, finally, and then he stopped crying because he remembered that he only had himself.  
  
But he has Stick now, too. Darrin dying made the older boy quiet, made him sober. And Justin knows that Stick will always sit between him and the drivers as they hitch hike, knows that he can sleep and not worry about Stick not being there when he wakes up. Which surprises him, because a week ago he couldn't have imagined Stick looking out for anyone, even himself. But things change.  
  
Everything changes.  
  
And the reflection of the white line beneath him is mesmerizing. His eyes slowly begin to drift shut, listening to Stick's hiccup of a laugh. Pressing as tight against him as he can in front of this bible-thumping Samaritan. Seeing how much he can get away with, because he knows that once they're alone, Stick will keep his distance. Will slowly edge away with guilt and want and pain on his face. That he'll hope Justin won't notice.  
  
But Justin does notice, and Stick knows the younger boy isn't looking for a new big brother. Darrin never really filled the role anyway, so it's hard to miss what you never had. Only regret not having it in the first place.  
  
So Justin slumps further against the window, breath fogging it, coming back to heat his face, and his fingers itch to draw the images that swim behind his eyelids. Waterfalls and broken concrete and dead dogs, and fifty million things he's never seen with his own eyes.  
  
And his last thought before sleep is that, even if his sister isn't in Spokane anymore, at least he's doing something. At least he's moving. Proving that he's still alive inside. 


End file.
